Price
by Catch23North
Summary: Roller, Optimus's shy scout component, is a 'brave little Autobot' but he's never transformed or spoken in words. This worries Optimus. Is there a reason for Roller's silence, or does the six-wheeled vehicle just need a push in the right direction?
1. Chapter 1

Price

Price

--

.

Optimus made sure the cargo bay was empty, then locked the door behind him.

The Autobots were safe for the time being, or as safe as they ever were sharing a planet with the Decepticons. If anything came up, Teletran-1 would notify him.

Optimus reminded himself of that, sternly. It was so easy to-

NO.

Optimus sighed through his cooling fans, and allowed his shoulders to slump. His friends were safe, and he needed this.

Few of those friends except for Ironhide would have recognized the doubtful mech Optimus relaxed into when he was alone. Second-guessing his actions had always been a part of his program, but the Matrix of Leadership didn't allow it to show often.

On the battlefield and among the Autobots, he was the Prime because someone HAD to be. The Matrix had chosen him, and logically Optimus knew that he was a good leader.

That didn't stop him from wondering at the Matrix's choice sometimes...

The fact that the Matrix WAS fallible, Optimus kept to himself.

.

Optimus shifted into vehicle mode, unhitched his trailer, and dispatched Roller. The small gray vehicle paused at the head of the trailer's ramp, red strobe twirling as he surveyed the cargo bay. Seeing no one but Optimus, he beeped a greeting, then rolled down onto the floor. He did some laps around the room. Optimus watched him, engine idling.

Roller was as dedicated an Autobot as any, but he was painfully shy, and had no protoform to transform back to. ...He didn't even have vocal processors.

.

A nudge at his right front hubcap brought Optimus back to the present, and he looked down.

Roller beeped and whistled a few times.

"I was thinking," Optimus told him.

Two beeps.

"No little one, I'm all right."

Whistle-beep.

"I was thinking about you actually," Optimus smiled down at him.

Beep.

"Well, I was wondering if you were happy being with me all the time. If you'd let Ratchet examine you, he might-"

Roller cut him off with a panicked squelch of static.

"NO," Optimus said firmly, "-I will not send you away, Roller. I love you very much. I would NEVER send you away."

...Beep.

Optimus sighed, and wished hadn't brought it up. One mile forward, and two miles back. Roller didn't change.

Then again, without a protoform, how could he?

Just how much did the spark depend on logic circuits, anyway?

Roller pondered none of these questions. He snuggled against Optimus's right fender, and rested the dark gray barrel of his gun turret on the semi-truck's front bumper.

.

"Ironhide, I need to talk to you."

"Sure Prime, what's on your mind?" the large red mech replied, agreeably.

"Alone."

Ironhide studied Optimus's optics for a moment, and his smile lost some of it's casual sparkle.

"The armory work for you?" Ironhide asked.

"Perfectly," Optimus nodded.

They relocated, and Ironhide took down one of the laser rifles from a rack on the wall. He ejected the power cell, and began breaking the weapon down.

"I've been thinking about Roller," Optimus began.

Ironhide winced mentally, but looked up to listen. His hands continued disassembling the rifle without missing a beat.

"About whether you should take him to Ratchet, you mean?"

"Yes... he's still scared, Ironhide. I can't- -no, I WON'T force Roller into a protoform if he doesn't want one, but I'm still not sure how much he understands. I think he's lonely, but he says he's happy with me..."

"You know what I think, Prime. Drag 'im in and get it over with. If he don't wanna be a transformer, he can always stay in vehicle mode," Ironhide pointed out.

"I know, it's just-" Optimus began.

"Prime," Ironhide interrupted, "-can I say somethin'- -ya know, as a friend?"

Optimus broke off.

"-What is it?"

"Roller ain't the one who's scared here."

Optimus's eyes flashed, and he crossed his arms in front of his grill. He said nothing.

"You may be right," Optimus admitted after a long pause, "-but that doesn't change the damage I could do to Roller's mind if you're wrong."

"It's your call, old buddy," Ironhide said, unscrewing the laser rifle's barrel. "-All I'm sayin' is, if Roller was MY combine partner, I'd get his transformation gears unstuck," Ironhide picked up a small brush, and began cleaning the trigger mechanism.

Optimus glanced at the disassembled gun, then looked quickly away.

"Ironhide, do you remember the first time you deactivated someone?" he asked.

"Yeah, Prime. I do," Ironhide nodded.

"Roller doesn't know what that feels like yet."

"Well, you're the one who keeps bringin' this up..." Ironhide shrugged, uncomfortably.

.

-tbc?-


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Jason, You're right. I'm fixing Roller's dialogue.

* * *

.

"Ratchet, get Sunstreaker and Gears out of here," Optimus thundered over the barrage of laser fire, "-I'll cover you!"

The ambulance raced away in a cloud of dust, his sirens wailing. Optimus sent a shot into Thundercracker's upraised arm just as the Decepticon jet was switching from hand to weapon, and the arm blew off at the elbow-joint, knocking Thundercracker backwards with a pained cry. Behind him Optimus could hear the brisk, reassuring crackle of Ironhide's sidearm. Megatron was across the battlefield, still cursing and wading his way out of the wave of carbon dioxide foam that Wheeljack had blinded him with. Razorbeak and Ravage were engaged as well... Optimus spotted Sparkplug crouching behind a boulder off to his left, and his blue optics flashed.

"Roller," Optimus ordered quickly over his helmet radio, "-deploy and get Sparkplug back to base!"

A disbelieving bleep crackled unhappily in his audio receptors.

"GO! -I'll pick you up as SOON as I get back," Optimus promised.

Roller agreed with an uneasy chirp.

Optimus stole one quick glance at the tiny gray wedge darting out from behind the shadow of his trailer, then turned as he felt the glare of Megatron's narrowed red optics, like cubed glass grinding against the metallic skin of his face.

Optimus met his enemy's glare coolly, and fired.

.

Roller zipped across the open ground, braking to a stop just short of the Sparkplug Human's yellow boots. Sparkplug just stared at him for a moment.

Roller twittered urgently, spinning his red strobe.

"-Gotcha," Sparkplug nodded, swinging himself into the driver's seat. Roller took off as soon as the cushion's weight-switch gave him a signal, but steered a zigzag route out of the canyon, picking up cover whenever he could- -it was easy enough, he just thought of how to shoot THEM, and avoided being anywhere HE had a firing solution...

Roller leaned into a corner, and they lost sight of the battle entirely. He straightened out his course, and became aware of the oddly soft hands that were resting on his dashboard. Almost moist, like the dropped silicone gasket he'd once run over with his tires. ...Eww...

"Thanks for the lift," Sparkplug said, when the noises of battle began to fade behind them.

Roller beeped politely.

Mercifully, the Human said nothing more for the remainder of the trip.

.

Roller was alone in the control room before Teletran One. He'd dropped Sparkplug off in front of the door to Ratchet's sickbay, and there his courage had failed him. He left the bemused Human in a very impolite cloud of panicky exhaust, and bolted.

High above, Teletran One's giant expanse of view screen and softly blinking controls glowed down on him. Roller's strobe flashes slowed, awed. He'd 'seen' this room often enough, but always from The One's point of view, or from the trailer's hiding place under Teletran One's console. ...The hiding place was shut now, and he didn't know how to make it open.

Roller reversed, then turned and drove around, mapping out the outer perimeter of the room. There were LOTS of good hiding places under other consoles, especially the ones with chairs in front of them. Roller paused in the dark under Jazz's station. The One would be back soon. The One had said so, and The One never lied.

...The loud Autobots would come back with The One though, and as scared as he was of being in this big room by himself, Roller WAS curious. He could explore now, if he kept his audio receptors alert. ...But what if he met the THE RATCHET?

THE RATCHET was LOUD, and threw wrenches, and always seemed to have his cold white hands buried in other robots' leaking energon-hoses...

A shudder passed through Roller's small chassis right down to his drive shaft, and he stayed where he was.

.

"-I don't know, Optimus. I haven't seen him since we got back," Sparkplug explained, walking through the cathedral-arch sized doorway with his giant metal companion.

"Hmm..." Optimus put a hand to his mask, considering. He could feel Roller nearby, but where- ...ah-ha. A tiny red flicker glowed softly in the shadow beneath a nearby console. Optimus bent down on one knee, and a gray streak shot out from under the console with a squeal of rubber tires. Roller braked in front of the larger mech's knee, and burst into a long series of anxious bleeps and whistles, punctuated by frantic strobe-twirling.

Optimus smiled behind his mask, and offered Roller his hand.

Roller drove up onto it gratefully, and Optimus felt the little scout's warm skid-plate settle against his palm as Roller's suspension relaxed. He gave a low, tired whistle.

"Thank you for getting Sparkplug to safety for me, Roller," Optimus said, patting the tiny vehicle with his free hand, "-that was a very brave thing you did."

"-Yeah, you really saved my bacon," Sparkplug agreed sincerely. He shot Optimus a questioning glance as the Autobot leader's large blue fingers obscured Roller's view.

Optimus winked.

"I think that's enough excitement for one day," he said, setting Roller back on the floor gently. Roller looked at Sparkplug, and did a nervous forward-reverse shuffle.

The Human waved to him kindly, one hand in his soft cloth pocket.

Optimus transformed into vehicle mode, and lowered the ramp of his trailer.

Roller waved his strobe carefully from left to right in Sparkplug's direction, then drove up the ramp into the safety of his trailer, and home.

.

-tbc-


	3. Chapter 3

The tall doors swished open, but no-one entered.

"Hello?" Sparkplug called, moving closer to the alarm switch on the wall.

A basketball rolled silently into the room, and the doors swished shut.

"Huh," Sparkplug picked up the ball, and dribbled it a few times. Then he smiled.

--

* * *

"What's with the rain on this planet?" Gears grumbled, "-Oil-liftin', CPU-seepin', dripping GRAY as far as the optic can detect..."

Huffer nodded, and watched a silver-white tongue of lightning crackle deep in the clouds beyond the entrance to Autobot headquarters.

"It'll let up soon... I hope," said Bumblebee.

"One thing about rain, little buddy- -it rolls right off," Hound promised, transforming into his mud-loving army Jeep form.

Optimus flicked his windshield wipers back and forth philosophically, then joined Hound in vehicle mode.

"At least it's not acid rain. Transform and roll out for Portland!"

--

Riding silently in Optimus's trailer, Roller watched his combine-partner's optic data, and listened to the rain on the echoing metal above him.

He didn't mind the rain, but it WAS gray... just like him

--

* * *

"Are you in there, kid?" Sparkplug asked, at the door of Optimus's trailer.

Roller paused. He'd been playing wall-ball, and the bouncy orange sphere glanced off his front fender before rolling to a stop. The One was in another room talking to Prowl, yet Sparkplug was talking as if he was here. -Had he been playing too loud?

"Roller?" Sparkplug asked, clearly.

Roller almost ground his gears in surprise, then backed into the darkest corner he could find.

What did the Human want?

"...Hmm. Okay, then. I'll come back another time if you're busy," Sparkplug said, and began to walk away.

Roller advanced, then paused at the head of the ramp with a soft, curious whistle.

Sparkplug stopped, and came back.

Roller beeped at him a few times, still puzzled.

"I came to see you," Sparkplug told him.

Roller reversed a little, then crept forwards pushing the basketball, and tipped it down the ramp. Sparkplug caught it with his foot like a soccer ball, and picked it up.

"You wanna play?" the Human asked.

Roller spun his strobe cautiously, undecided. He scanned the rest of the room. There was no one else around...

Roller drove down the ramp and turned sharply, stopping in front of the Human.

He revved his engine.

Sparkplug laughed.

"Are we playing catch here, or do you want me to throw it for you?"

Roller reversed about forty feet and waited, strobe twirling in anticipation.

Sparkplug pitched the too-large ball underhand- -baseball was more his game- -and Roller bumped it back, beeping excitedly.

He knew this game! The One liked playing it too...

--

* * *

"What happened to you?" Ratchet stared, as his favorite Human walked into the medical bay looking seven point eight degrees hotter than normal.

"Youth and exuberance," Sparkplug grinned, wiping his sweaty face with the brown shirt he'd just taken off.

"Are you in any danger of overheating?" Ratchet asked.

"No, but I could sure use some water," the man admitted, taking a gallon jug from a cabinet down near floor level and breaking the seal.

"Spike, Bumblebee, or both?" Ratchet guessed, amused.

"Neither," Sparkplug said when he finished drinking, "-Roller. You know that little bot can-"

"ROLLER?" Ratchet repeated, coming over and crouching down beside his friend.

"...Yeah," Sparkplug studied Ratchet's amazed face at close range, "...is there something I should about know here?"

"Roller-!" the medic broke off, and continued in a slightly calmer voice, "-Roller never interacts with anyone except for Prime unless he's -ordered- to. Sometimes not even then."

"Really?"

Ratchet nodded.

Sparkplug soaked his shirt with water from the jug, and draped the cool fabric across the back of his neck.

"What's his deal, anyway? Is he afraid to transform or something?"

Ratchet sighed, and stood up.

"I only wish I knew, Sparkplug. The few times I've been able to examine him, Roller has always been badly damaged. Otherwise, Prime's self-repair systems take care of him."

"What IS Roller? I mean, from what you've showed me, that system's PART of Optimus. How can he use it to heal other Autobots?"

"Because Roller's a part of him too. They're combine-partners."

"Like the Constructicons?" Sparkplug asked.

"Almost. The Constructicons combine their minds as well as their bodies. Optimus Prime can -feel- Roller and his trailer when they're combined, but he can't hear what Roller's thinking," Ratchet explained.

"Does the trailer think too?"

"No. That's more like a-" Ratchet strugged explain this in Human language, "-a limb Prime can take off and on."

"There's a lot more to that truck than I thought," Sparkplug said, shaking his head.

"You have no idea," Ratchet smiled, "-but tell me, what game were you playing with Roller? Did he talk at all or-"

--

* * *

"Hello there," Optimus greeted Roller over their secure intercom channel.

Roller beeped back happily.

"Did you have a good time with Sparkplug?"

Roller was silent for a long moment. Finally he whistled a cautious affirmative.

...Was he supposed to have been be playing with alien life forms?

"That's good," Optimus said, cutting across Roller's anxious thoughts, -"I feel better knowing you have someone to talk to when I can't be there."

Roller bleeped indignantly, and pressed his bumper firmly against the trailer's inside front wall.

"I agree, little one," Optimus rumbled, "-there's no one quite like you either."

Roller relaxed after a minute or two, and did a series of happy forward-and-back zigzags.

"Hey, that tickles..."

--

* * *

Optimus came upon Roller parked beside the double row of stacked wooden crates that divided the 'Human area' from the rest of Autobot headquarters. Sparkplug stood nearby, and Bumblebee had parked a few yards away in vehicle mode. Spike was leaning casually against Bumblebee's hood, and telling the two Autobots a story about the first time he'd gone 'fishing', whatever that was.

Roller noticed Optimus standing there, and bleeped in surprise.

Spike was still talking.

Roller drove over to Optimus, and stopped at the big mech's feet. He focused his optic sensors upwards with an inquiring whistle.

Spike trailed off, watching.

"It's all right, Roller," Optimus said, bending down to pat the tiny scout vehicle, "I just wanted to know where you were."

Roller replied with a series of informative beeps and whistles.

"He's been with us the whole time," Bumblebee volunteered, "-we've been taking really good care of him, honest."

Optimus sighed, and smiled beneath his face mask.

"Carry on."

Walking away down the branching main corridor, Optimus wanted to look back, but he didn't. He made his way to the command center instead, and sat low in his chair watching the satellite-view on Teletran One's screen until he felt Wheeljack's hand on his shoulder.

He hadn't even heard the other mech come in.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" the inventor asked.

"...No. -Thank you, Wheeljack," Prime's voice was strong, steady. Wheeljack almost believed him.

"-Then listen up, Optimus. Just when you think you finally got rid of 'em, they'll need you again. I speak from Dinobot experience."

"THANK you, Wheeljack."

"Hey, no problem..."

--

* * *

"I told you guys he couldn't transform. Lay off," said Bumblebee.

"But it's not fair," Sideswipe protested, "If he can't transform, why does Tweety-bird here get to skip all his maintenance checks?"

Roller began a long series of noncommittal beeps and warbles.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you! How do you DO it?"

Roller replied with a mournful whistle.

"What does that mean?" Sunstreaker asked Bumblebee, hands on hip-casing.

"He just never lets Ratchet catch him," Bumblebee shrugged.

"You mean he's scared of mechanics?" Sideswipe translated, effortlessly.

"Not all mechanics, just Ratchet," Spike explained, "-and nobody but him knows WHY, 'cause Ratchet's always been nice to him..."

Very stealthily, Roller began to back out of the too-confining circle. -If he hadn't bumped into Bluestreak on his way in, Roller might have made it.

The gray and red sharpshooter made no move, but he didn't get out of Roller's way, either.

"Get a load of this, Blue-" Sideswipe grinned, "-Tweetybird here's afraid of our sweet 'ol mechanic."

Roller turned his wheels to pivot in Sideswipe's direction, and bleeped indignantly.

"You are?" Bluestreak blinked, "-that's okay, but I mean, what are you afraid of? You don't really believe anything that comes out of Sideswipe's faceplate, do you?"

"HEY!"

"Seriously, 'Sides. Did you scare him on purpose?" Bluestreak asked, frowning at the red Lamborghini.

"ME? I swear, I had NOTHING to do with this. I -am- trying to tease him into taking his maintenance like the rest of us though, and if you'd like to help...?"

"Maybe he's just not used to being touched," Bumblebee cut in, "-that's not a crime, you know."

"No," agreed Bluestreak, "-but it is fixable."

"What do you mean?" Bumblebee asked, hopefully.

"Practice." Bluestreak put his hand on Roller's hood. Roller beeped twice, very quietly.

"-Not so bad, huh?" Bluestreak smiled.

Hesitation. Slow, pensive strobe twirling. Finally, Roller pressed against the other gray mech's hand a little, and said nothing.

Encouraged, Bumblebee reached down and ran his fingers over one of Roller's hubcaps. Roller emitted a high-pitched beep of surprise, and -squirmed-. Bumblebee instantly withdrew his hand. He exchanged a worried glance with Spike, who shrugged.

Looking thoughtful, Bluestreak reached down and tried the same thing.

Roller made a series of short, oddly-pitched peeps, and drove quickly forwards out of reach.

"Is he -laughing-?" Bluestreak asked Bumblebee, bemused.

"I- I don't know. He's never made that noise before."

"How 'bout it, Tweety? Is that your laugh?" Sideswipe asked.

Roller beeped an affirmative.

"He's -ticklish-," Sunstreaker snapped his fingers with a metallic clink.

"Of COURSE-" Sideswipe grinned.

"Guys?" Bumblebee pleaded, without much hope.

"Roller...?" murmured Bluestreak.

Roller whistled back inquisitively.

"-DRIVE."

--

-tbc-


End file.
